Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

To Find The Missing Lifeline	By : EvilConcubine Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 37353 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. I don't make money from this story.

Chapter List
- 16
- 17
- 18
16. Revelations

     They were sitting in a pub, which was usually opened all night long. Ron was slowly drinking his butterbeer, and Harry could only drink the water, as he was still feeling dry. He was drinking the second glass already, but was still silent. The redhead was patiently waiting for his friend to start the talk.

"Ron, I don't know what to do. I just don't know..." Harry sighed.

"What's happening to you, mate. I simply don't recognise you. If you're in trouble, let me help," Ron encouraged, feeling the tension around Harry and noticing the way the brunet's hand was shaking, holding the glass.

"I don't know if you're going to turn your back on me, but I can't talk to anyone else."

"You're my friend, my best friend, and I want to know what's wrong with you," the redhead reassured. Harry inhaled deeply and closed his eyes. His head was splitting again, but he'd already learned to ignore it... Almost.

"I don't love Ginny. I can't lie to her anymore, I can't listen to her when she's talking about the wedding and... We've already been sleeping in separate rooms for some time," he said with the low voice. Ron was speechless for almost a minute. He ran his hand through his hair.

"I... knew you had problems. Both Mione and I have noticed that you and Ginny weren't quite... all right," he finally replied.

"I thought we'd be happy, living together. Now we have this damned house, which I hate." Harry growled the last words, but quickly pulled himself together. "I thought we just needed time to get used to our new life and so on... But now I can clearly see that it'll be only worse. I can't hold it up; I can't keep tormenting both of us. We have to end this. She's a good person, but... Ron, I don't want to lose all of you, especially you. You know I love all of you."

"I know," the redhead nodded.

"You have the right to hate me, but I don't think you'll be happy if I ruin your sister's life. I'm not the person she needs. She deserves better. But I can't take it anymore." Harry became nervous again and overturned the glass with an accident move of his shaking hand. It didn't break though, and it was already empty. Ron felt sad, seeing him like this. Harry's tired eyes roved quickly and restlessly, and he was very twitchy.

"Just... calm down." The redhead set the glass up. "Have you talked to her?"

"Not yet. I wanted to talk to you first. I know it's stupid and... It's cowardice."

"Oh, come on. We've been through a lot together: you, Hermione and I. I admit I liked to think of us as relatives, as a family; officially, I mean. But who the hell needs such sacrifices? You should've talked to me sooner."

"I didn't want to disappoint you and... I wasn't myself. Don't ask me what it means, I don't know. I could hardly think and make any decisions."

"Tell me, do you have an eye to someone else?"

"Yes... and no."

"Who is she?"

"Looks like I still have a chance to disappoint you," Harry laughed bitterly and it wasn't a normal sound for him. 'Do I even care if I will?' He frowned at the thought. Of course, he cared; of course, he needed Ron's support, though he thought he wouldn't get it now.

"Why? Is she that terrible? Ugly? Stupid?" Ron smirked slightly, trying not to concentrate his attention on the unfamiliar things in Harry's behaviour. Maybe if he acted like he wasn't noticing it, Harry would feel more relaxed?

"No. On the contrary. And it's he," Harry said as if he was talking about... the weather, for example.

"Oh..." Ron ran his hand through his hair again. 'Okay, stay calm.' In their past his impulsiveness had already nearly destroyed their friendship twice and he didn't want it to happen again.

"We were together for some time and I was very happy. I've never been so happy with anyone else at all. But I left him because of Ginny. I know he hates me and he would never want to see me again after what I did to him," the brunet continued.

"Was he that special to you?" Ron asked. He had... suspicions about who could that secret lover be, but decided not to ask about it. There was already enough information for nearly half past three in the morning. All right, his best friend was a gay, but it wasn't as bad as his self-destruction and desperation. Yes, it was a good thing to do - to choose the lesser of two evils. Ron calmed himself down with this well-known point.

"Yes... Special," Harry sighed and Ron noticed the way his friend's face slightly distorted in sorrow for a moment. "But, as I said, it's over, he wouldn't take me back, I'm sure of it. So he's not the reason why I want to leave Ginny. I'd better be alone."

"You never stop surprising me, Harry... What of Ginny, I think you should talk to her as soon as possible."

"Thanks, Ron. I'm glad you're still my friend."

"It wasn't very wise of you to start living with Ginny only because you didn't want to disappoint my family," Ron frowned.

"I'm not even sure if that was the reason," Harry shook his head.

     Harry couldn't sleep at all. It was good to have Ron's support, but something was still pulling him back to Ginny. He even wanted to apologise and start all over again. But then what? He couldn't see any future with her, but he could hardly see himself without her, at the same time. 'No, it's decided. But how? 'Good morning, Ginny! By the way, we have to break up.' Fucking wonderful. On the other hand, I was just great, breaking up with Draco. Just rubbed it into his face, without choosing the words more carefully, and, like a coward, left him alone with this!' In rage Harry threw the cut-glass vase - someone's gift, received in a house-warming party. It hit the floor and shattered. This damned house... He would gladly give vent to his muddled feelings by breaking and shattering every single object in this hated place and then he'd burn it down. He would just set it on fire and watch it burning to ashes with some sadistic pleasure and relief. It took some time to take control over himself. And then he was just hurting himself again by looking at Draco's photographs carefully. He had a lot of school photographs, including Draco's, so it was a good time killer, since he knew that he wouldn't be able to sleep anyway.

     After dinner he finally found his heart for the hard conversation. 'Now or never,' he encouraged himself.

"Ginny, we need to talk," he started. Ginny had just got up from her chair to clear the table.

"Yes?" She sat down again.

"I've been thinking a lot about us. We can't go on like this. We're both unhappy and it won't change."

"What are you talking about?" she gasped quietly.

"I hurt you, I hurt myself. It won't work, we have to break up."

"What?! No... You can't! You can't do this to me!" she exclaimed. That was unbelievable! Harry couldn't...

"I'm very sorry, Ginny." He surprised himself with his equanimity, even when Ginny started to cry. 'Well, I'm a cold-blooded freak. Should I really be surprised?'

"You... Please, you can't... If you need time to think... We'll be okay, just don't... Have you thought about me?!"

"Yes, I have. You deserve better. You're a good person. It's not about you, it's about me." 'So fucking original, Harry! Genius! Do you have any more cheap clichés in stock?' he thought sarcastically, feeling that his nose was bleeding and his ears were stuffed up. He felt ill.

"No! We're going to be fine. We've been through so many things. You can't just strike it out! You don't know what you're doing." She was shaking her head, still refusing to believe.

"I'm doing the right thing for you and for me. It's over, Ginny. I'm sorry."

     This wasn't the end. There were the smashed dishes, screams, tears, two slaps across Harry's face. All of it was mixed with more diplomatic attempts to change his mind. Persuasions, threats, pleading... Then more screams. It looked more like Ginny's monologue, however. Harry was enduring it stoically, letting her take it out on him. He was out of the sensible arguments, he'd already told everything he could, and there was no way she could make him change it. Finally she ran away to pack her bags. And then, hours later, she was gone. Harry wasn't sure if he felt relieved or despaired.

     He was extremely tired, but he didn't want to see this place anymore. He packed his own things as fast as he could, though it took about three hours anyway, and flooed into Grimmauld Place, - the inherited house of Blacks. Kreacher was quite surprised to see his master and he wasn't glad about it, of course, but Harry had no orders for the grumbling elf and went straight to the one of the bedrooms, just to throw himself down onto the bed and fall asleep right away. He was dead to the world for about ten hours and woke up in the morning with the terrible headache. The potion and the warm shower helped a lot. After breakfast and another potion he felt rather fine; empty, but fine, despite the wretched state of things. He'd spent the morning and nearly a half of the day, watching through the photo albums of Blacks, especially paying attention to Sirius' photographs. There wasn't much though. Most likely, a lot of his photographs had been destroyed by Walburga Black, along with Sirius' picture on the family tree tapestry, where now was only a burn mark instead of the man's face.

     Harry had always thought that this place was too dark, too gloomy and too dusty, but now it strangely felt more homelike than the house where he'd been living with Ginny for almost two months.

     It was nearly evening when Ron firecalled and then flooed in.

"Harry, we have to talk. It's important," he said, looking very concerned.

"What's wrong?" Harry tensed, feeling uneasy. They sat down in the living room.

"Ginny."

"Look, I'm sorry. I know everything turned out quite bad and..." the brunet tried to explain.

"No. Listen to me," Ron interrupted him. "Yesterday, when she came home, I was there and... overheard something that made my hair stand on end. She was talking to our mum and... Merlin, Harry... I don't even know how to tell you that."

"What is it?"

"Sh-she told about something that... happened back to school. She said she'd suspected that you were seeing someone, and she'd followed you once. Harry, she saw you and him... Malfoy. She saw you kissing him like there was no tomorrow. The one you were talking about... It was him, right?"

"Yes. So what?" Harry sighed, a little annoyed, wondering if Ron visited him to find out the truth, just to shame him and blame him.

"I'm not here to judge you, okay? It's none of my business. It's not what I wanted to talk about," the redhead frowned. 'Surprisingly, I've found out that there're much worse things than you shagging Malfoy,' he thought, chuckling in his mind at the absurdity of the situation. The thought would be almost laughable if it wasn't that sad.

"So?" Now Harry was really starting to worry.

"She saw you together and she was mad about it so... She found nothing better to do than..." Ron stopped himself for a few moments to take a breath. "For several years she was saving up money for her future Quidditch career. Mum, dad, Charlie and Bill helped her with that. Well, she withdrew all that money from her bank account and went to some witch. One of her stupid friends gave her the idea. Harry, you're cursed."

"Ron, I don't quite understand..."

"Ginny gave all her money to bewitch you to herself. It's a curse. Now I see why you've been acting that strange all these months," Ron said, looking down. Harry gaped in shock and rubbed his hands over his face and hair.

"No... It's unthinkable," he whispered.

"Such things can... drive people crazy, you know. I told Mione. She's already looking for someone who could help you."

"Don't you think it would have been a little fairer to inform me first?!" Harry fired up.

"I didn't know how to tell you. I was stunned. My own sister fucked up your brains and she doesn't even feel guilty about it. She only regrets that it didn't work well enough, because you've broken up with her anyway."

"How... could she do this to me? I thought I was just going insane. I... even committed a crime... And I could have done more..." the brunet was gasping, making the coughing sounds and shaking.

"What crime?" Ron became alerted.

"You wouldn't want to know," Harry shook his head. Ron felt terrible, seeing how betrayed his friend looked. "Ron... She ruined everything! Oh, gods... Gods! Go away, please. I need to be alone..."

"To leave you like this? I can't," the redhead refused.

"You don't understand... I hated myself. And I still do. You don't know how many... things I've done," he finally started to sob, feeling sick. Ron didn't know what to say, but he wouldn't leave. Harry cried himself to sleep several hours later right where he was, - in the armchair, curling himself up. His sleep was heavy. He woke up, hearing voices. They sounded familiar, but he couldn't understand a word. They were worried. Someone was tugging him in order to awake. He opened his eyes and it took some time to recognise Hermione. She and Ron were both by his side. Through the deafening pain he still couldn't understand what they were saying. It all sounded to him as an ugly cacophony of sounds. The headache was insufferable. He was tired. Why couldn't everyone just leave him alone? His friends exchanged glances and stopped tormenting him, so he could go back to sleep.

     Next time he woke up in the ward of St. Mungo's, surrounded by Hermione, Ron, George and some mediwitch. He felt weak, but his head was no longer splitting. He remembered his last talk with Ron and the awareness burned his mind.

"How do you feel?" Ron asked.

"Better," Harry whispered. "Why am I in hospital?"

"We couldn't wake you up for a long time. You had a high fever; you were delirious... You opened your eyes many times, but I don't think you were conscious," Hermione replied.

"Well, I'm conscious now. When can I leave?"

"You can't leave yet, Mr Potter. You need a good rest and a medical care," the mediwitch said. She cast scanning spells on him and left.

"Harry, I called a highly qualified curse-breaker, one of the best in the country. He'll be here today to examine you and to find out what can be done," Hermione said.

"Thanks... What time is it?"

"It's nearly afternoon." This time it was George who answered.

"Glad to see you." Harry managed to smile a little.

"I wish I could say the same," George joked, making Harry's smile widen. His three friends kept him company, amusing him with stories and jokes, and then at four hours the middle-aged man, dressed in long, dark-blue robes, entered the ward. He had brown eyes, brown wiry hair and heavy build.

"Mr Arkel. Thanks for finding the time," Hermione greeted the man. He nodded politely, kissed her hand and shook hands with both Weasley brothers.

"Would you please leave me alone with Mr Potter?" Arkel asked. Hermione was a little disappointed about that, because she'd hoped to see the man's work with her own eyes, but she didn't argue and three Harry's friends left the ward.

     Harry quickly realised that the man wasn't just a mediwizard and a curse-breaker, - he had a special gift of seeing people's energy, their auras, and every little changes in it, without using spells. He informed that Harry's aura was mutilated by the curse. It had holes and 'tails' all over. But such changes had appeared only recently due to Harry's attempts to fight the curse; it had hardly been that bad from the start. And those changes also weakened his natural magical protection from curses and other harmful influences.

"So, can you break it?" Harry asked.

"There's nothing to break. You've overpowered it. Sometimes the strong will is enough. In fact, it's the most reliable way to resist. I only see the consequences. I can help you to heal and you'll be fine soon," Arkel promised. He asked a lot of questions, asked about the details of Harry's introspections and said that that had been exactly what had destroyed the influence gradually.

"...But it was dangerous. The curse could destroy your mind because of your resistance. And you're not quite right, thinking that it had to make you forget someone or something. It just had to suppress things, mostly the emotions, which could distract you from the person who requested the service. The pain was training you not to concentrate on such things and it was making you pay attention to something... 'more comfortable' to your mind. You had to feel good and content only being close to said person, but, judging by what you've just told me, it didn't work well with you, so you couldn't find peace anywhere at all. It's not very uncommon. I think you know the reason why it didn't work as it had to. I've seen similar curses. They never end well for the victims. And they're usually hard to detect," the man explained.

"Does it mean that some skilled brainwasher can just force the person, for example, to run after the one, who he or she hates?" Harry frowned.

"Theoretically it's possible, but it won't last long and there still will be some aggression. It's not easy to do and it will hardly work for the person with the strong willpower. It will also be too obvious to the other people from the start. It's just as obvious and short-dated as the love potion in that case," Arkel said. Harry immediately remembered Ron 'in love' with Romilda Vane after the potion-spiked Chocolate Cauldrons that had been intended for Harry. He winced and frowned again. How was that any better than the Imperius curse? It was enough to ruin someone's life.

"In your case," the man continued. "There were kindly feelings and trust towards the person, who did this to you, so the influence wasn't noticeable, any aberrations in your demeanour could have been explained by many other reasons. And you've never suspected consciously that your feelings were forced. Subconsciously you could feel it. But human mind is too complicated thing to make such influence perfect and predictable, that's why the consequences are often tragic."

"You sound very reassuring about me, but will these consequences of the curse pass without the trace? Do I still have a chance to go crazy?" Harry asked just in case.

"There's no such possibility anymore, but you need healing. With proper healing you'll be fine in about two weeks."

"Do I really need to stay here to get it?"

"No. You may go home tomorrow. I can visit you there. And you need a lot of rest for a couple of days."

"All right. Thank you," Harry nodded.

"Now I need to speak to all of you: you and your friends," Arkel said. He let Harry's friends in.

"How's Harry?" Ron asked.

"My professional ethics forbids me to discuss it with you. You can speak to Mr Potter about it later. I just want you to know that what your sister has done is a grave crime. I'm working officially and it's my duty to inform the Aurors about it," the man warned, looking mostly at Ron and George as he was talking about the member of their family.

"Does this mean Ginny's going to jail?" Ron sighed. But he was calm, because he'd already thought about such possibility.

"Most likely. The term of imprisonment will depend on her cooperation and her help in finding the one, who provided the service," Arkel explained.

     The man left after he and Harry had arranged for their next meeting.

"Harry, how are you?" Ron asked.

"I'm fine... He said he could heal me in two weeks, but... Some damage is irreparable anyway," Harry mumbled and closed his eyes. Hermione placed her hand on his.

     Madam Pomfrey had finished her examining spells and smiled at Draco.

"He's fine. Strong and healthy," she said.

"He?" Draco asked. He'd just realised that strangely he'd never asked if his child was a girl or a boy, and he was already approaching the seventh month of pregnancy.

"Yes, it's a boy," the woman confirmed. Perhaps, the child had been meant to be a boy due to Lucius' reason to stuff Draco with potions. Draco didn't know for sure and, quite frankly, he didn't want to know.

     Pomfrey was visiting him every two weeks to make sure everything was fine. Draco was emotionally preparing himself for the role of a parent. His baby was now more active and often reminded about himself by kicking. Not that he was ever forgotten. Draco had also found out that his little boy was responsive to his daddy's touch, though the blond still couldn't decide if that was true or just his imagination. Sometimes he was silently laughing at himself for his own sentimentality when he was rubbing his belly, talking to it at the same time or reading aloud. However, it was mentioned in one of his books that babies could hear and even recognise their mothers' (or, in Draco's case, fathers') voices, distinguishing them from all the other sounds and even preferring them to the voices of the strangers from the outside.

     The only thing that had disturbed him sometimes (besides the fears and worries about the forthcoming delivery) had been his occasional nightmares. Once he'd had a dream about the Death Eaters, finding and killing him and his unborn child brutally. The other time he'd been dreaming about the Aurors that had taken his child away after pulling his infant right out of his body 'by the order of the Ministry' that had decided that he wasn't capable of taking care of his child. That was ridiculous, scary and disturbing! And in another dream he'd seen that he'd been bleeding. There had been a large, spreading spot of blood on his pyjama trousers. He'd pulled them down to his knees in pure dread and the blood had been running down the inner sides of his thighs. In addition the child hadn't been moving. He'd started to scream and had been still screaming after awakening. Florie had heard him and had woken Severus up. That time Draco couldn't do without Calming Draught after he'd checked himself to make sure he hadn't been bleeding and his child had been moving; and moving rather actively, most likely, startled by Draco's panic. After that he'd started to take the light and harmless version of Dreamless Sleep again, so nothing like that was bothering him anymore (as well as the dreams about Harry, - just the other occasional dreams he wanted to forget very quickly). He couldn't let anything make him anxious.

    Living with Severus was fine, especially when they were walking in the garden or in the forest, which wasn't far away. There was no maddening and importunate care. Just a calm confidence. And Draco was really thankful for it. Maybe everything really wasn't bad after all. Tranquil life seemed to be something he really wanted. No stress, no nervousness, no noise. He needed stability and comfort. And still there was a hole in his heart. He tried to ignore that feeling, but he could hardly forget the hands, embracing and caressing him, the green eyes that had once used to look at him with something resembling love, though, it had been all Draco's own illusions. For Harry it had just been a passion, most likely, or maybe even a transient affection, but in the end all of it had left Draco miserable and burnt down to nothing. But Draco had his little miracle. He wondered if all the pregnant ones felt the same, considering the babies inside of them as something unique and... incredibly odd, in a good sense. He'd never known that there was such a strong connection between the child and the one, who was carrying it inside. It amazed him sometimes. And, thankfully, his son was healthy.

     Once again Draco looked around in the nursery. It was light and cosy, and already furnished with all necessary things. The walls were painted in delicate pastel shades of blue with beautiful silvery ornament.

"I hope you're going to like it," he said, rubbing his belly gently with both hands. There were no movements, - the baby was definitely sleeping. Draco was bored and decided to go down to the living room, hoping that his godfather had already finished his work for today. Walking downstairs, he saw a man on the first floor in passing.

"Severus, are you..." In the last moment he saw that it wasn't Severus down there, so he flinched very startled, but he had no time to see who it was as his foot slid off the step and he was losing his balance. He gasped loudly, starting to fall down forwards, failing to grasp at the banisters. His heart nearly stopped in horror.

"Wingardium Leviosa!" someone exclaimed as quickly as possible. The fall stopped very abruptly. In the state close to the weightlessness Draco was hanging in the air with his eyes closed tight. In panic he wrapped his arms around his belly and opened his eyes hesitantly. He saw that he was hanging over the stone steps. One of the steps was just in an inch from his chin and his belly was nearly touching the cold, hard stone, as well as his knees and feet. Realising that he wasn't breathing, he inhaled sharply and looked down. Neville Longbottom was standing near the stairs. His eyes were wide and his wand was pointed at Draco. Neville's hand was shaking as he was holding the weight of the blonde's body; not the whole weight, of course, but still it wasn't the same thing as levitating the light objects, so it required some physical strength. With the move of his wand he turned Draco's body in the air carefully and lowered it, making the blond sit down on the stairs. Draco grasped at the posts, cut from stone, which supported the banisters, and pressed his forehead against them. He gently rubbed his belly with one hand, not sure if he was comforting his child or himself. Meanwhile, frightened Florie appeared near very confused Neville.

"Is young master hurt?!" she screeched and started to approach tentatively.

"I'm... fine," Draco replied, hardly audible.

"Is master's baby all right?"

"Florie!" Draco shouted furiously. However, the elf had only confirmed Neville's suspicions. Malfoy's chest, arms, and thighs were quite thin; he'd gained very little weight anywhere, except his belly, which was round, and the true reason could hardly be confused with something else. And the way he was touching his belly was just another evidence. What of Draco's gender... Neville was raised in the Wizarding World, after all; even if such things were the rarity, they weren't unheard-of. Not that he wasn't surprised, though; finding pregnant Malfoy was the last thing he'd expected to see in his life.

"Oh..." the elf bit her lip and her eyes filled with tears. "Florie didn't mean to betray! Florie just got very scared. Florie is so sorry," she started to cry, closing her eyes with hands, and her ears lowered in shame.

"Thank you very much. Now leave," Draco frowned. The elf disappeared with loud, pitiful sobs. Slowly Draco calmed down, thanking gods that he wasn't hurt. At the best, he could break his jaw and nose; and the worst thing was hurting the child and causing a preterm birth, even if his son was protected by amniotic fluid. Almost seventh month... A child had a chance to survive, but still it was too early. And, in that case, there wouldn't be any birth, because Draco's body wasn't ready, - most likely the child would be cut from his abdomen. Draco made a quiet sobbing sound. He shivered at his thoughts, cursing himself for his clumsiness and inattentiveness, and hating the way his centre of gravity had shifted lately, making him feel unbalanced.

"What are you doing here? You were supposed to leave an hour ago," he frowned again, this time, at Neville.

"Professor Snape is a little more enthusiastic today," the Gryffindor replied quietly, still looking at Draco's belly.

"Stop looking at me like this!" Draco growled, making Neville finally look at his flushed and angry face instead of his abdomen. "And who gave you a permission to wander about the house?"

"Professor turned me out of the room, where he's working with my parents. He was brewing something and said that I'm kind of a bad luck charm when it comes to the potion-making." Neville rolled his eyes.

"Oh, I understand him completely. I wouldn't trust you to brew tea or to be present at the process. Speaking of trust, you do understand that I'll have to obliviate you now, don't you?" Draco narrowed his eyes. Maybe he would have already done it, hadn't he left his wand in his bedroom.

"Speaking of tea, I wouldn't mind to have some... and we can t-talk this out," the Gryffindor almost stuttered. He didn't want anyone to affect his mind and memory anyway, especially Malfoy, and especially very angry and very pregnant Malfoy. Draco snorted. Having a cosy tea with Longbottom didn't sound appealing at all. But Draco owed him for saving him, even if Longbottom was, in some part, guilty of his misstep, even though unpremeditatedly. Holding the banisters firmly, Draco got up with some effort and started to walk down slowly. Neville came up closer to him and was walking down beside him, just in case. Draco's knees were still slightly shaking because of the frightening episode. With the lump in his throat he suddenly remembered the way he'd been pushed downstairs at school. 'Well, of course, it's the best time to remember something like that!' He felt dizzy.

"Are you all right?" Neville asked quietly, noticing that Malfoy was seizing on the banisters so hard that his knuckles were white. The Slytherin was slightly swaying on his feet and his breathing was shaking. The question remained unanswered. Draco never let go of the banisters until he reached the last step. Neville followed him to a table in the living room and they sat down. The child was slightly kicking, and, it seemed, the stress of his father's interrupted fall hadn't affected him at all. It made Draco relax. He called an elf. She appeared immediately and looked at him with her big tearful eyes.

"Florie, bring us tea and my wand."

"Yes, sir..."

"And stop crying. He would have figured out anyway. I don't look fat, I look pregnant," he sighed.

"Master Draco isn't angry with Florie?" she asked doubtfully.

"I'm not angry," Draco sighed again.

"Oooh! Florie will bring master a lot of apples!" she smiled happily.

"Later," he chuckled. A couple of minutes later he and Neville were drinking tea with small cakes.

"Oh, good. I'm thirsty," Neville mumbled after taking a sip of hot tea.

"How are your parents?" Draco asked. He was curious about it, and Severus wasn't very informative about his work, saying that it was still early for any progress after only a little more than a month and after many years of the other methods of healing that hadn't been helpful.

"It's hard to tell. Professor and mediwizards say that they don't see any positive changes yet. They say it's too early to see any results. But I've started to notice something... My mother... I think she... Sometimes she fixes her eyes on me, like... like she's starting to recognise me. Maybe not consciously. Or it could only be my imagination. I don't really want to indulge in wishful thinking, but I've been visiting my parents for many years, so I can notice even the little difference," Neville answered, looking at his steaming cup meditatively.

"Interesting. But I think Severus wouldn't have wasted his time if he saw no sense in this work," Draco shrugged.

"Yeah, right." The Gryffindor blinked, tearing himself out of his pensiveness and looking back at Draco. "So... you live here, too? I had no idea."

"And I want it to remain this way," the blond smirked slightly.

"That doesn't mean you have to obliviate me," Neville objected.

"Why not? Losing a half of an hour of your life won't make any difference to you, whereas to me it will. I'm just saving myself from needless concerns. You have no reason to dramatise the situation."

"Look... I'm not going to give you any trouble."

"You see, I don't want to take any risks. I'm very concerned about the Ministry. They can take me away and lock me up for the experiments or take my child away when he'll be born, just because I'm still suspended and just because I'm Malfoy. I don't trust you."

"I'm... sorry, but it sounds a little paranoid. I don't think they would do such things," Neville noted carefully, without wishing to inflict any wrath at himself.

"Well, excuse me, but I expect nothing good from them and from the other 'good people'. Not to speak of the print media... I've been through enough to become paranoid," Draco replied almost impassively. The Gryffindor became thoughtful again. Of course, he, like many people, knew about Skeeter's article and then there had been enough rumours about some people from the house of Gryffindor, who had been punished for the regular beating and tormenting Draco Malfoy in the beginning of the last school year. That was more than enough to become extremely careful. Malfoy's anxiety wasn't groundless, especially now that he was expecting a child.

"I understand..." Neville said sincerely and sympathetically.

"I doubt that. You're not a son of a Death Eater and you're not pregnant," the blond answered, still unemotionally.

"I'm not a blabbermouth. And why would I do such a thing to professor? We don't like each other, but he helps my family. I wouldn't do any harm to him and his child," Neville assured. Draco nearly choked on his tea.

"His child?" He put the cup down on the table and laughed, wrapping his arms around himself. Seriously, the Gryffindors were so funny, making fools of themselves. "You've just accused me of some kind of incest, you know. Don't make me laugh like this again, if you don't want to try yourself in midwifery right here and now," Draco shook his head, still chuckling. He cleared his throat and took a sip of tea. Neville's face was red to the roots of his hair.

"S-sorry... All right, I... jumped to conclusions. But it doesn't change anything."

"You're right, it doesn't, - I still don't trust you. Like a proper Gryffindor, you saved me from breaking my jaw and probably from something much more gruesome. I'm grateful. And yet, I don't want you to blab out my secret to your 'wonderful' friends, even if you mean no harm. With my luck all of it will be on the front page of tomorrow's Daily Prophet."

"I haven't seen any of my friends since leaving school. I only receive some incomprehensible letters from Luna. Everyone's busy with settling their lives, including myself. But that's not the point... I don't want you to obliviate me or do anything to my mind at all. I'm not going to put you and your baby in any danger, I promise. I won't tell anyone. I... I could give you an oath. Even the Unbreakable Vow, if you want me to. Will that do? I'll be visiting for many months, I think. If you had my oath, you could stop hiding when I come here and there would be no need to obliviate me every time we meet by accident."

"Um... Better. Last time you weren't that convincing," Draco shrugged, slightly tapping the tip of his wand on the table, very amused by seeing the shocked eyes in front of him.

"What?!" Neville exclaimed.

"That was a joke," the blond chuckled.

"I'm glad you're so entertained," the Gryffindor frowned a little. "I was always terrified by the idea of someone screwing up my mind. Call it a phobia, if you please."

"From now on, I think I'm going to have a phobia too, - stairs," Draco sighed.

"So, do you agree to take my oath or not?"

"I'm confused... I have to weigh the pros and cons. Even my only friend doesn't know," the blond thought aloud mockingly. In fact, he'd already made the decision; he just liked to see the Gryffindor nervous. "On the other hand, I'm in a good mood today, regardless of what just happened."

"I'm lucky then," Neville mumbled, a little annoyed.

"I'll take your oath. Just a Wizard's Oath." the blond said. It was less complicated than the Unbreakable Vow and they wouldn't need the third person to conduct a ritual. And it was enough, combined with all the Gryffindor's honesty (even if in some cases it was no more than just a strongly exaggerated stereotype, as Draco had already found out more than once).

     Draco, indeed, was feeling better because of the fact that there was no need to hide in his rooms anymore every time Longbottom would be visiting, and that happened three times a week now.

"Severus, would you, please, cast a scanning spell on me?" the blond asked drowsily when the man had finished his work. Neville had already left and his parents had been taken back to St. Mungo's by the mediwizard.

"But you were scanned two days ago. Is something bothering you?" The man narrowed his eyes.

"No, not really. Just the unpleasant incident today; I nearly fell down the stairs. I just want to make sure everything's fine."

"Let's see..."

"Well?" Draco asked five minutes later when Severus finished the examination.

"I'm sure he's absolutely fine," the man said.

"What is he doing?"

"He's sucking his thumb, apparently."

"Really? I didn't know... I didn't know they can do it... inside," Draco smiled, slightly raising his eyebrows.

"I believe it's their way to soothe themselves," Severus shrugged. He turned to leave the living room, but Draco wrapped his arms around the man's neck from behind, putting some of his weight on him, and pressed his face to his shoulder. Severus didn't stop, but slowed down, and Draco was following him like this, so tired that he was hardly able to drag his legs along. He hadn't had enough sleep last night and that was showing now.

"Your grandson and I are lucky to have you," he purred.

"Grandson?" Severus quirked up his eyebrow.

"You're my father in every way but blood. I've been your prince since the day I was born. You're our family and we both love you. And we know that you love us, too," the blond mumbled sleepily.

"Draco, spare my old back. You've become too heavy for such surges of tenderness," the man sighed almost softly.

"Don't be ridiculous, you're not old. Your duelling partners could confirm it, as well as their healers. Therefore, you're strong enough to take us both upstairs in your arms, so we could take our royal nap."

"I'm afraid I have to decline such honour. If you're so traumatised by today's incident on the stairs, I could levitate you up."

"No..." Draco whined. "I don't want to be levitated."

"Fine," Severus gave up, frowning a little. The whining wouldn't have stopped otherwise. "But I won't carry you upstairs," he warned. He took Draco's arm and led him up unhurriedly, keeping an eye on him to make sure he wouldn't trip over the steps. Once they were upstairs, he took tired and drowsy Draco in his arms and picked him up, cursing and damning the entire world in his thoughts. The boy was, indeed, heavy, which, certainly, wasn't surprising. But still, Severus decided to play up to Draco's childish (and yet calculating and cunning) demeanour, feeling that there was a search for the comfort and attention behind it.

"Don't get used to it," the man said nevertheless. The blond smiled, very pleased with himself. Who else could manipulate Severus Snape like this? By the time Severus reached Draco's rooms, the boy was already asleep in his arms. Florie appeared silently to open the door to the young master's bedroom, so Severus wouldn't have to put the boy down to open it. The elf slipped into the room, shook the pillows up and pulled the blanket off the bed, doing everything very quietly not to wake her 'poor, so tired young master' up. The man put his precious burden into bed and turned the boy on his side, deciding that it was probably the only comfortable position for him to sleep. Carefully he took Draco's silk dressing gown off, leaving him in his pyjamas. Slightly disturbed boy mumbled something, but didn't wake up. Florie covered him with the blanket, closed the curtains, because the sun was still up, and left the room along with Severus.
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